Kissing Cousins
by Mechanism
Summary: They diddle, to the surprise of absolutely no one.


**WARNING**: Incest, possible underage (though Spencer is in high school, so he could be seventeen/eighteen pretty easily)

i'm not much of a writer so apologies in advance for general shittiness. probbaly rly badly written and ooc lmaoooo

if u could spare some time to review and tell me how shit i am id appreci8 that hhhhhhh

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Billy hasn't seen Spencer in years.

Not since he was a little kid, back when Billy still felt obligated to go to holiday dinners and reunions, back before he lost all of his time to music and business and booze. It wasn't easy, going back; the Wrights were the only part of Billy's immediate or extended family that would still accept him, and it might've only been because they were cut off and largely ignorant of his offenses. But Billy missed them when he was gone. More so, he missed Spencer, the little kid who clung to his leg like a bug for family functions. Spencer wasn't really anything like him, and Billy was always so madly infatuated with himself that he found it strange for him to form significant attachment to someone so different, but he did.

Spencer was just a kid. He still had to sit at the kids' table, even though he was really quite sharp and well mannered for his age. Billy had to sit there, too, because he wasn't really quite sharp or well mannered. He wasn't especially welcome among the adults of his family, even though he was technically one of them, but Spencer never really seemed to care that Billy's legs were too long for the kids table, or that all of his jokes were crass and he smelled like menthol and immaturity. Spencer had a cute, crooked smile, for a brat.

Every year they'd meet together, and Billy would ignore the judgement of his relatives, and Spencer would probably ignore it, too. Billy discovered that Spencer liked movies, that he did good in school, that he was uniquely clever for someone his age.

A few years passed. Billy leaned down and kissed Spencer at the door when he opened it, Christmas on the air and no one watching. Spencer looked startled, but smiled, standing on his tip toes to return what he probably thought was a greeting gesture, pecking Billy on the lips, like two pink petals pressed together. It was soft and tiny, like the place between a rabbit's ears, and at the time, didn't mean much. Billy put his coat away and went to dinner like normal, sitting at the kids table with Spencer even though he had long since outgrown it, leaning over to give the boy another kiss over mashed potatoes and a winning smile. He got drunk, that night, on whisky and his parents disapproval. He leaned down and placed a third sloppy, wet kiss on Spencer, whose eyes widened, whose breath quickened, even as the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Billy remembers, even now, the feel of Spencer's small, slender hands on the back of his neck, fingers in his short, soft hair. He remembers the way Spencer swallowed around his tongue, the way that-for a moment-it almost seemed natural.

Billy didn't go to any Christmas dinners after that. Or reunions, or New years parties, or birthdays. He wasn't welcome, and it didn't seem right. He settled for waking up in hotel rooms, to the smell of menthol and vomit, with someone he could never remember the name of. He settled for sneaking away. It took him some time to realize that Spencer, cute and ambitious and intelligent, had a most irrational crush on him. But when he did realize it, the guilt set in like a stone in his stomach, because _how_, how was he still the stupidest person he knew.

So here he is, with his phone in his hand, credit card in his pocket, wondering how quickly he can book a flight. His breath fans out in front of him. He's already on the phone, and doesn't want to tell his manager.

Finally, someone answers.

"Hello?" it's Mrs. Wright. Billy breathes a sigh of relief.

"Uh, you probably...don't want to hear from me, or haven't heard from me in a while, but...it's Billy. Baruch?" he waits, and the gasp is audible.

"Oh honey, where have you been? We haven't heard from you in years!" She starts, her voice as cheery and blissfully oblivious as ever, rattling off all that he's missed. Billy's ears only pick up what he wants to hear: Spencer's grown so much, Spencer won a short film award in June, Spencer's future is really bright, just like yours, isn't that funny, Billy? The two of you must be one of the same kind. Mrs. Wright doesn't know that Billy's mouth was the first her son tasted, doesn't know that he really just wants to see the only person in his family who ever really accepted him, enjoyed his company. Maybe, Billy thinks, the only person on this planet for whom he harbors genuine feeling.

He books a flight. No one needs to know. This is one outing he won't let the paparazzi swarm over, no matter how much he may crave the camera lenses and shouted praise. The flight is long and the food is bad, but the whole time he practically vibrates with dread and excitement. He licks peanut salt from his thumb, and wonders if this is the solution to his problems, or the problem itself. He sucks the residue from his fingers and counts the minutes as they pass.

Billy has felt alone for a while. He never really cared much, back when he could visit Spencer once a year and have a family, or at least a piece of one, but now it's different. Years have passed. Spencer is different, his family is different. His family is the ruby red of a hurricane and his manager's anger. He falls asleep on the plane, his dreams colorful. He's clean today, no booze, no nothing. He can't stand to touch it today, even though his hand feels empty with no bottle in it, and the thought makes his mouth dry.

The Wrights live on a small street in a small house, humble compared to the lavish households of Billy's immediate family, all of whom sit on immense corporate wealth, the sort he grew up on, became addicted to. But there's something clean, painfully so, about the Wrights, about the visit he's about to make. He picks up his things, ready to stay the weekend, or a month, or the rest of his life, and walks up the driveway.

Mrs. Wright comes running toward him out of the house, in her bath robe and pajamas, smile on her face. She thunders into him, arms around him, shouting about how long it's been and how tall he is. It's the first time someone has been genuinely happy to see him in a long time, so he hugs her back, even though it hurts the arm carrying the suitcase to perform the gesture. He looks through her wavy red hair and over her shoulder. Her husband is waving at him from the doorway, smiling.

Spencer stands at his side. If he's smiling, Billy can't see it.

His heart leaps into his throat. Even though Spencer looks nothing but shocked, Billy can't help his own wide, beaming smile. It feels real this time, genuine. Mrs. Wright lets go of him and he immediately runs to the door, giving her husband a quick handshake as he greets him, but then turning to Spencer, who just seems sort of scared, lip bitten, fingers curled.

"Spencelvania, I was hoping you'd be here!" Billy says, putting his things down inside as Mrs. Wright closes the door behind him, his arms itching to encircle the boy, who stands, looking small, in front of him.

"Spencer, don't be rude to your cousin. Say hello! I'll go get some food together, he's probably hungry."

Truth be told, Billy is jet lagged and wanting a smoke. But he doesn't especially feel it in that instant, when Spencer slowly, hesitantly smiles, and comes up to him, wrapping his arms around Billy's chest. Billy feels Spencer's warm body, and boy he's grown. He's almost as tall as Billy himself, with a gold septum piercing and oh, _braces_. He still has those warm brown eyes, that golden skin, those cute freckles. It takes everything in Billy's heart not the lean down and kiss him again, the fourth time; since when was he counting? He's never felt anything as good at Spencer's hands on his back, the smell of his hair, all so familiar and warm.

Spencer slowly lets go, separating their bodies to stare up at him. Something complicated swims in Spencer's eyes, a shark beneath stagnant waters. They stand there and just breathe each other in for a while, Billy's hands sliding slowly to Spencer's narrow, angular hips, slotting his thumbs into the boy's belt loops. It feels good, like they're attached to each other.

"Kinda weird to see you not squatting at a table too short." Spencer opens, a little nervously. Billy just shrugs, smiling dopily, inebriated by the moment.

"Kinda weird to see you post puberty." Billy says, feeling with acute sensitivity the way Spencer's hands slide down his back to rest at his hips.

He parts from Spencer to socialize with the kid's parents and little sister, who wants little to do with him. Over dinner, Billy enjoys the feeling of normalcy, and crossing his ankle with Spencer's under the table. Spencer doesn't say anything, just keeps eating, though Billy can feel the boy's mind churning. Billy can't help it, though, can't even bother to try to stop himself any more. It's like being a little kid again, to be this infatuated with someone other than himself. He doesn't miss the booze, or the risky sex, or the strange calls in the middle of the night, not when he can slowly circle Spencer's foot with his under the table.

Spencer's parents want to know where he's been, but Billy can't really tell them. Running from his parents, his responsibilities, the boy sitting across from him, right into the arms of his own stardom. After a while, it gets dark, and Spencer's parents and sister sit down to watch some movie. Billy gets invited to stay and watch, but when he hears Spencer jump in the shower, he decides to wait for the boy in his room, instead, where he'll be staying.

Billy drags his things into Spencer's room, looking about. Posters litter the walls; his taste in movies is much the same as Billy remembers it. Strange indie horror films, mostly, with a sprinkling of bands and other posters. Billy's eyes stop when he sees one of his own posters peeking out from behind another, and smiles to himself. After a while, Spencer gets out of the shower, clad in pajama bottoms and a white t shirt, smiling when he sees Billy.

"Alright, you can have the bed, dude, but just for tonight." Spencer says through a smile as Billy bounces up and down on his race car bed. It doesn't feel like hotel beds, not slept in in the same way. Everything smells like Spencer, his whole room, which is oddly tidy for a kid his age.

"If you think that I, Billy Joe Cobra, won't get what I want, you have another thing coming, brochacho." Billy says, flopping down on the bed, knocking the steering wheel pillow to the floor. Spencer rolls his eyes and picks it up, throwing it in Billy's face. He has a good arm, Billy notes as he spits the pillow away.

"I'm gonna go find a sleeping bag or something, I think I still have one from my boy scout days." Spencer mutters, more to himself than anything, scratching the back of his head, hand on his hip. Billy admires him from behind, tracing him, trying to understand. He's changed so much, and yet not at all.

"Nah, just sleep in here with me." Billy says, patting the bed, smiling. It's selfish, he knows, but he can't help it, not when Spencer's cheeks flush involuntary pink and he jumps. What a kid. Spencer is still young, still easily embarrassed. Billy wants to scoop him up and kiss him, but doesn't.

"I-I don't think…" Spencer yelps suddenly, loud and high pitched, when Billy yanks him down onto the bed with him, arms around his waist, a warm, smiling laugh in his ear. Spencer is giggling too, but simultaneously trying to smother Billy with a pillow. Billy overpowers him just with his size, as Spencer laughs and tries to wrestle him into submission.

"You think you can out wrastle the Cobra? Huh?" Billy chants as Spencer tries to wring himself out of a firm choke hold, laughing and kicking his legs.

"A wet noodle could out wrastle you!" Spencer says, spinning around so he's laying on top of Billy, chin on the pop star's chest. They smile warmly at each other, the atmosphere light, but only for a moment. Something dense settles between them, in the warmth and nostalgia.

"Billy…" Spencer starts. Billy sees the bittersweet beginnings of a thousand questions hanging from his seashell pink lips, cold and perfect like saltwater snowflakes.

"We kissed, do you want to talk about it?" Billy says. Spencer stares at him, dumbstruck, for a long moment before laughing out loud.

"Wow, it's a few years too late for that!" Spencer cackles, kicking his feet. "You were drunk, and I was young and stupid...just forget it, okay?" Spencer says.

Billy's heart sinks. Forget it? It's all he's thought about for years. Billy bites his lip and looks at Spencer's beautiful, kind eyes. "I wasn't drunk the first time." He whispers reverently, staring at Spencer, who seems to hold his breath. Spencer's expression tightens and he chews his lips.

Billy's hands slide down his back and grip. Suddenly, with a yelp, he flips Spencer onto his back. Spencer gasps, Billy's body weight pressing down onto him, the pop star smiling broadly up above him. Spencer's fingers itch and hunger for the back of his neck, and he's acutely aware of the way their bodies align, the way his legs instinctively tighten. The atmosphere is different. There's no pretense anymore, not like this; there is no way for Spencer to construe this as a platonic gesture, not when billy gazes intensely down at him, their lips too close.

"B-Billy-" Spencer starts, but Billy's thumb comes up, brushing the corner of his mouth, his other arm supporting him so that he hovers over Spencer, smiling like a fox. The thumb on his lip is calloused, a guitar player's hand. Slowly, Billy leans down, Spencer's breath catching in the air. Billy can't believe this is happening, can't believe it's real. He lowers himself, slowly, never breaking eye contact with Spencer, who looks either fearful or excited. He feels his eyes slowly slipping shut, their mouths centimeters apart, tasting each other's breath. He just holds it there, for a moment, until he feels Spencer's hands slide up to gently cup his lower back, at which point he moves down, pushing their lips together, permission granted.

The tenseness seems to evaporate from Spencer instantly in a long, low whine. Billy tastes his lips like he never has before, sober and with complete intention. The hand not on Spencer's cheek cups the back of the boy's head. It's so warm that it's almost stifling, suffocating, smothering, wild giddiness riding up Billy's spine.

After the extended, simple contact, their lips part with a pop and a whisper of exchanged breath, as Billy feels Spencer's fingers open and close against his back. Spencer's fingertips pull tension from his muscles, knotting in the fabric of his shirt, tasting the flesh of his back.

"I missed you." Spencer giggles, half sad, eyes and lips wet.

"Why do you think I came back?" Billy murmurs softly to him, kissing the corner of his mouth, twining their legs together.

"We're cousins." Spencer says into Billy's mouth, the most obvious thing in the world. Billy chuckles, absolutely in love with the way Spencer has to state the obvious, ground himself, get control, because he knows what it feels like, he's experiencing it too.

"We love each other." he says, dragging his lips over Spencer's, running his thumb over the boy's soft cheek, tasting the metal sting of his braces. "We want each other." Billy mutters reverently, lapping at Spencer's lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. Spencer whines and his body shifts. Billy can feel his muscles pull tight and undulate under him, they're pressed so close, the heat between them suffocating.

"We're family." Spencer says again, his last protest dying on his lips at the hands of his own sated sigh.

"Yeah." Billy says, before aligning their bodies so that their erections, clothed and half-hard, press firmly together. Spencer gasps, the hands on Billy's back clawing in suddenly, rougher than they were before. Billy rolls their hips together, devouring Spencer's sweet, pink mouth, swallowing each whimper and cry as the boy's hips twist up to meet his, rubbing themselves together. Billy moans, low and gravelly, into Spencer's mouth and Spencer drinks it like champagne, sweet and dry. Their tongues slide together, Spencer's kisses clumsy but desperate, his hands gliding down to breach, with shaky, sensitive fingertips, the hem of Billy's pants. Billy grunts and pushes his hips into the touch, making Spencer brave. The hands slide beneath his underwear to cup his ass, kneading it like clay, turning loose tension and sending warmth up Billy's spine.

Spencer whines low in his throat and sucks Billy's tongue, his cheeks red and his lips kiss worn, and Billy realizes too late that Spencer's tongue is pierced as the tiny metal orb clicks against his teeth. His movements change in nature, no longer languidly rolling his hips, his dick half-hard, but now pushing and thrusting desperately, eagerly rubbing them together, finding what is _almost_ enough heat, _almost_ enough raw satisfaction.

Billy puts his hand on Spencer's shoulder, pushing him down and separating their lips with a wet sound.

"My parents-" Spencer starts, whispering, eyes watering.

"Are watching tv with your sister on the other side of the house. I locked the door." Billy smiles, sly and wide. "They won't hear anything as long as you don't scream, baby doll." Babydoll, sweetcakes, butterbean, Billy's mind rambles in saccharine infatuation, running mad with the milk of doting, cooing, _fucking_ affection.

Spencer whimpers and nods, sweat at his neck. Billy's hands travel down to pull at the hem of Spencer's pajama pants, fingertips dragging over his midsection, making him shiver and shake.

"I'm gonna take them off and touch you, is that alright?" Billy asks, his other hand rolling Spencer's shirt up under his arms so he can plant a wet kiss in the middle of the boy's chest.

"Y-yeah…" Spencer says, through a mouth full of his own tongue.

"Yes?" Billy confirms.

"Yes!" Spencer says, a little too loud, a little too desperate. Billy grins.

Billy pulls the boy's pants down and Spencer gasps, kicking them off with his underwear, his erection slapping against his groin. Billy sits up to look at him and his mouth waters. Spencer looks deliciously ravished, his face pink, his hair a mess, his lips slick with spit. The rosy pink buds of his nipples, the angles of his hip bones and clavicle, the dip of his navel, the royal mesh of his pubic hair, it's all lovely. Perhaps most lovely, Billy realizes, is the way his hard cock lays against his body, circumcised just like Billy. The head is a glossy, rosy pink, heavy and hard and thick. Billy shimmies his own pants away, freeing his dick, stiff and full just the same. Billy has an average sized, but pretty cock, and it makes Spencer's eyes widen slightly, his cheeks turning impossibly red.

Spencer, on the other hand, is much more impressive than Billy expected. He's slept with a few dudes, but they were all around average. Spencer clearly won the genetic lottery on this one, because he sure as hell didn't get it from Billy's side of the family.

Billy whistles quietly. "Dude, I didn't...expect that. Gonna have to teach you how to use it, someday." He says as he places an open palm on the shaft, just pressing gently. Spencer gasps and writhes, his hips stuttering. "Look at _that_. You're so pretty, Spence, I could die." Billy rubs his hand along Spencer's length, and the boy bites his lip, strangling a cry away.

"Alright, brosephone, lets do this." Billy rolls them over and Spencer whines, limp and putting little effort into the gesture. The boy is now laying on his back on Billy's chest, Billy's heartbeat drilling between his shoulder blades. Billy spreads his legs wide, chin on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer gasps, Billy's cock sliding up the part of his ass, hot and hard and pressed there like it belongs. Billy pushes his hips up, sliding and grinding up against Spencer, one hand moving to thumb Spencer's parted lips, the other travelling down to wrap around the kid's base, palm nestled in coarse, dark hair.

Spencer yelps and Billy has to cover the boy's mouth as he gets the girth in his fist. "God, it's like holding a soda can." Billy mutters, chuckling brokenly into Spencer's ear. Spencer just looks at him and shivers, licking his palm. "I'm gonna keep you quiet if I can, is that okay?" Spencer nods. "Bite my hand, I guess, if you want me to stop." Spencer nods again. He looks lovely, his dark, thick eyelashes, his pretty freckles, the way the metal of his braces and septum piercing feels against Billy's gently pressed palm.

Slowly, they rock back into rhythm. Billy's hand slides up and down Spencer's hard, hot length, slipping his thumb over the head and playing with the lip of the foreskin. When he touches the tip, Spencer's whole body shakes and he pushes down on Billy's cock, rubbing it hard against his ass. Billy feels pleasure coiling in his stomach, piercing to his hip bones, full and electric and hot. Spencer's sounds get progressively louder, muffled by Billy's hand. Billy has never felt so right fucking someone, never felt like he was doing good, never felt like he was completing a part of himself. But with Spencer it feels loving, like he's cradling the boy in his arms, giving him something precious and getting something precious in return.

"Bro, Spence, I've never told you this before, but…" He tugs Spencer's cock, wet and slick with precome, hot and pulsing in his hand as the boy writhes and tries to thrust into it. "...I love you. I've loved you ever since we were just little brats, dude." His own voice sounds strange to him, broken and hoarse. One of Spencer's hands comes up to grab at the hand over his mouth, and Billy lets go. Spencer sighs, gasps, sighs again.

"I love you, too." Spencer sobs, trying to keep himself quiet. "Please don't leave again." Billy's heart breaks for him. He rubs down to Spencer's testicles, rolling them in his hand, before traveling back up to the tip, teasing the flare of it with his thumb.

"Oh, baby, baby I'll never leave, never again, I promise." Billy chants to him like a prayer, pleasure mounting, feeling his cock pulse in the part of Spencer's ass, his thrusts erratic and hard to control. He can feel his breath shortening, his abdomen spasming, just like Spencer's. He turns their heads, perhaps uncomfortably, so they can kiss, wet and sloppy, Spencer's mouth spit wet, his tongue piercing dragging beautifully along the roof of Billy's mouth. He pushes his tongue into Spencer's mouth as the boy pushes his cock into Billy's hand, barely able to control his own pleasured sounds.

"I'm...I'm almost done for, Spencer." Billy mutters into Spencer's open, heaving mouth, his hips jerking upward, hard and fast.

"I, I can't, Billy, I can't, please…" Spencer babbles and begs, barely coherent.

"Fuck." Billy grunts, feeling himself spasm with the boy above him, his muscles all pulling tight. He feels his thighs quake and tighten, sees Spencer's legs go stiff, his abdominal muscles flexing and pulling tight. It's so gorgeous, and Billy knows what it means, Spencer is about to have an orgasm; it's never felt so good to make somebody come, Billy thinks. "Oh god, oh fuck, here it comes…" Billy mutters, before sealing his lips with Spencer's again, hoping to muffle them together, tongues meeting like gags.

Billy's vision flashes white and he does all he can to stifle the sound he makes, his hips jerking, cock throbbing as his semen spurts out onto Spencer's ass, as he rides the orgasm, waves of it thrashing through his body. Spencer, above him, muffles a scream impressively, and Billy feels it in his hand when Spencer's hot, wet cock pulses, hips jerking, and spits string of opaque white liquid out in even bursts across Spencer's stomach, his legs shaking, semen splattering attractively onto his chest and into the dip of his navel.

Their lips separate, in desperate need of breath, gasping hard, chests heaving. Spencer's weight is suddenly crushing, but Billy doesn't care; he's never felt this complete, this wholly good in his life.

"Fuck, Spence." Billy mutters, licking his lips. Spencer just whines softly in response.

"Yeah…" Spencer replies simply, looking at Billy, smiling like he's drunk.

The hand on Spencer's cock moves to smear the cum over his chest, as Billy groans appreciatively into Spencer's neck, smile going broad and full and wild with contentedness. Spencer giggles, and Billy enjoys the way it reverberates through his chest. This feels like home.

"I need another shower now." Spencer says breathlessly, his chest heaving. Now that his blood isn't thundering in his ears, Billy can hear the movie ending across the house.

"Go ahead, take one. I'll join you." Billy kisses his neck and rolls him off to the side. He doesn't think about tomorrow, even though he wants too.

"And after that?" Spencer says, kissing Billy's shoulder. Billy doesn't know. He's not good at thinking ahead. He didn't really get further than wanting to touch Spencer, wanting Spencer to touch him, but they are cousins, and he is supposed to be on tour in a month. He doesn't want to think about it. He wants to think about how whole Spencer makes him, about how easy it'd be to scoop him up and take him on tour, too, to keep it a secret, to live privately. But that's an awfully adult thing to ask of Spencer.

Billy smiles. "Whatever you want, broseph. After that comes whatever you want."


End file.
